November 4, 2016 (with apologies to Ernest Lawrence Thayer)
The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the Cubby nine that night
The score stood six to six after Rajai’s ball took flight
When the top of the ninth came and went with the score still the same
A long-dwelling heartache reappeared because this was more than just a game
A straggling few left the scene in deep despair, some to get some rest
But others clung to the hope that springs eternal in the human breast
They thought; “If only Chapman could get three more outs and get us off the mat
We’d put up even money then, with the Cubs at the bat”
Chapman got the three outs, and survived Kipnis' foul ball
It was to extra innings in Game Seven of the classic of the Fall
On the nervous multitude a grim melancholy sat
Because a rain delay stood between the following at-bat
But when the rain had lifted and Heyward’s speech declared
Billy goats and black cat curses were of little thought or care
For the Cubs had beaten Kluber, and Andrew Miller, too
Now it was Bryan Shaw stepping into view
Schwarber let drive a single, to no wonderment at all
And Bryant, the much beloved, tore the cover off the ball
But it came to rest on the warning track calming Cleveland’s fears
But Almora went from first to second on the tag-up of the year
Then from thousands of throats and more there came a lusty yell
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It pounded on the mountains and recoiled upon the flat
For Rizzo, mighty Rizzo, was advancing to the bat
There was ease in Rizzo’s manner as he stepped into his place
There was pride in Rizzo’s bearing but no smile lit his face
But Cleveland thought it better to let him take his base
And to take their chance with Zobrist, let him decide their fate
Now the leather-covered sphere comes hurtling through the air
Zobrist stood a-watching it, his discipline unfair
But then Shaw responded quickly with strikes one and two
And Zobrist fouled off another as he’s often prone to do
“My cutter will do well,” Shaw thought with indignation,
“It will get me the outs we sorely need and snuff out their celebration.”
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it fly,
And Zobrist pokes it through a hole down the left field line
The score stands seven to six, the Cubs now in front
Montero will add another before all is said and done
To the bottom of the tenth, eight-to-six stands the score
But the Cubs won’t have it easy, so demands the lore
The pitcher Edwards makes the trek from the bullpen to the mound
He may be the closer someday, his audition starting now
He gets the first two outs without the batting of an eye
Chicago can taste the victory and the Ws begin to fly
But a dreaded two-out walk appears, and Guyer takes second base
And a Rajai Davis single wipes the smiles from their face
The lead is only one now and no Chapman on whom to lean
So Maddon sends Montgomery to save the victory
Montgomery throws strike one with a soft-landing curve
And on the next pitch Martinez grounds softly to third
Bryant scoops it up, a smile across his face
His foot comes out from under him as he throws towards first base
Oh somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light
And somewhere Harry, Banks and Santo laugh because it’s finally been reversed
There is no joy in Cleveland –the Cubs just broke the curse.